


Surrogate

by BoxWineConfessions



Series: NSFW Yurio Week 2017 [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Rough Sex, Voyeurism, frustrated masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 12:09:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/pseuds/BoxWineConfessions
Summary: To act as a poor substitute for Victor is unacceptable. Georgi accepts that perhaps his actions would be different toward the boy if he pined for him.  If Yuri longed for him, he’d thread fine gold hair between his fingers. He’d kiss the filth away from those soft plush lips. He’d tease him until ever part of his body hummed. However, Yuri pines for a man whose shadow he’s been trapped in for over a decade, and it keeps Georgi’s crumbling resolve intact.Written for NSFW Yurio Week 2017





	Surrogate

Georgi understands of course. To find love on the rink is a beautiful, albeit common thing. To find infatuation, unrequited but relentlessly hot burning is simply a part of life. What are the chances that two hearts would seek one another out and beat in tandem? He understands this too for each glimpse of love he’s had has been so faint and so fleeting. Unrequited love in the rink is so common. He knows this must be the first among many for young Yuri Plisetsky.

When Georgi himself was barely but sixteen, he fell for the womanly charms of a figure skater in the twilight of her career. Her jumps were not as high as the others, her sessions upon the ice were short, but she made the use of every second of her time. Games upon the ice and in the locker room were things that she did not have time for.

However, Georgi understood that she was out of reach. He asked her to get tea one afternoon after practice, and she asked him point blank, “what would you hope to get from this?” To which he had no response. After that encounter, he kept the heartfelt notes that he wrote to her tightly bound within the pages of his journal. He only spoke to her when she spoke to him. She complimented his step sequence one afternoon and for the rest of the week he felt as if he were flying.

So, he understands young Yuri’s infatuation with Victor Nikiforov.

Perhaps he understands it too well. Georgi does more than watch as Victor surpasses him every single season since they both made their debut. He sees sides Victor that few others have. He notices way that he tucks is hair behind his ears repeatedly, as if he does not remember that he’s had it cut short for years. He holds bottles of beer and cups of tea lightly between his fingers, as if they will jump out of his hand at a moment’s notice. He knows that if there is ice cream or sherbet to be found within his apartment during a friendly visit, Victor will seek it out and have it spooned into his mouth within seconds.

He knows that Victor is the only man he’s ever made an exception for. He knows that Victor’s hands are soft. He knows that Victor smells like women’s perfume, and tastes inexplicably sweet. He knows that Victor likes to be fingered until he’s stretched open and begging. He knows that Victor prides himself on his ability to climax without so much as touching his own cock. He knows that Yuri Plisetsky would very much like to know these things about Victor.

It is apparent in the way that he acts toward Victor at practice. It is apparent in the way that he hung back afterward. If Victor and Georgi decide to go for a drink, Yuri will inevitably curse their names to filth for doing things that he could not.  If Victor and Georgi decide to go out for coffee, Yuri always turns down the invitations. He cites the fact that he’s too cool to hang out with “old hags,” but Georgi knows the truth. He represents an obstacle in Yuri’s mind. If Georgi and Victor had no plans, Yuri will perk up and ask if he’s been to the cinema lately.   

Then it is Victor’s turn to turn him down.

Yuri’s infatuation only becomes stronger when he returns from Japan defeated and heartbroken.

Yuri will pop a quad mid practice, and storm off screaming, “what does that fucking pig that I don’t have?!”

Georgi feels compelled to go after him. He cannot count the number of times when the pressure became too high, and he had to do _something_ , but knew not what to do. He cannot count the number of times when there was no one to comfort him over Anya, and Katya, and Polina.

He walks into the locker room, and one sound rises above the sound of the leaky faucet, and the rumble of the air conditioning vents. It’s the low constant rustle of skin against skin. Georgi can see the locked toilet at the end of the row. The best thing to do would be to turn on his heel and leave, but his skates feel so heavy on his feet. His guards feel bolted to the floor.

Georgi only dares to move when from the stall erupts a slight and disjointed cry of, “Victor!” followed by a slew of curses.

Georgi learns that Yuri’s desires are not limited to his brash and violent outbursts. After practice Georgi’s body aches and his mind feels broken. Only then does Yakov finally dismiss them. Then, Georgi will find himself alone in the locker room with Yuri. Yuri must believe that the shower covers his long frustrated moans, “Vic-toorrr,” all strung out and too many syllables added.

Georgi learns that Victor isn’t the only man he’ll make an exception for, even if Yuri Plisetsky can barely be called a man. Is hair is long and fine like a woman’s. His features linger between round and childlike and angular and masculine. His big green eyes remind him of Natalie. His anger and unbridled rage remind him of Anya. Yuri’s liminal space in-between adulthood and childhood haunts him whenever he comes into the locker room.  Georgi cannot stop himself when he wraps his own hand around his cock in the shower and touches himself in time with Yuri’s touches.

Georgi loathes himself for what he does. But he reconciles this by vowing that it will never go any further. The fleeting affections of a young athlete are just that, fleeting. Yuri will get over Victor, and in turn Georgi will stop thinking of Yuri.

Yuri cares less and less. Georgi will walk into the locker room, and the shower curtain won’t even be pulled shut to hide Yuri’s shame. He’s walked in on Yuri with his hand tightly fisted around his cock five times this week, and it’s only Thursday. Yuri did it twice on Monday. Once before practice, and once after. Today, he walks in and sees Yuri with three fingers buried deep in his own ass.

Georgi closes the space between himself and the showers in five agonizing steps.

Yuri’s teeth are clenched tightly shut, but Georgi can hear him mumble, “fucking asshole, fucking piggy.”

Georgi tugs the shower curtain closed, turns on his heel, and grabs his bag to leave. He can hear Yuri curse as he walks out the door. “Fucking asshole! That’s all you’re gonna fucking do?”

At first, Georgi doesn’t mind. To find love on the rink is a beautiful, albeit common thing. To find infatuation, unrequited but relentlessly hot burning is simply a part of life.  What are the chances that to hearts would seek one another out and beat in tandem?

To taste the forbidden nectar of a lover who is too young, and teach them all there is to know in the nature of love in its various forms is appealing. Last spring there was Katya, who was barely eighteen but already enrolled in university courses. Before that there was Celeste, who still lived at home at nineteen, but her mother liked him very much so she could stay over at his apartment.

However, to act as a poor substitute for Victor, simply because he is there, is unacceptable. Georgi knows and begrudgingly accepts the fact that he is vain. Georgi accepts that perhaps his actions would be different toward the boy if he pined for him.  If Yuri longed for him, he’d thread fine gold hair between his fingers. He’d kiss the filth away from those soft plush lips. He’d tease him until ever part of his body hummed. However, Yuri pines for a man whose shadow he’s been trapped in for over a decade, and it keeps Georgi’s crumbling resolve intact.

Yet, Yuri continues to torment him.  He splays out wide for stretches during warm up. Yakov assigns Georgi and Yuri to do pair stretches. When this happened before, Yuri would complain that he, “didn’t want to break that hag’s hip”. Now he leers at Georgi, “C’mon Georgi, let’s do this.”

The breaking point comes when Yuri abandons the guise of the showers entirely. Georgi purposefully waits for everyone else to clear out. He does twenty extra laps around the rink, alternating each time between different compulsories. He takes his skates off rink side instead of throwing on guards and removing them in the locker room.

The entire locker room is thick with steam and a surreal dream like tension, as if someone has turned on all the showers and left them on. The locker room is empty, save for junior champion Yuri Plisetsky, naked as the day he was born sitting on the bench jerking off as if he were home alone.

Yuri’s damp hair clings to his neck. Yuri’s emerald green eyes flutter open, snap shut, and his eyes roll back in his skull. Yuri lets out a long drunken moan, and twists his fist down onto his own cock.

Georgi’s fate was sealed the minute he walked into the locker room. So when he finally allows himself to push his hand down his workout pants and frees his cock, he feels relieved.

For a moment, all they do is touch themselves in cumbersome tension. Georgi doesn’t even look at Yuri. He screws his eyes shut, and listens to the sound of their combined labored breathing. He lives in the sound of skin slapping against skin. Yuri touches himself in the abrasive way that only teen boys can abuse themselves.

Then, he opens his eyes, and locks his own heavy gaze with Yuri’s.  “I’m not going to fucking beg you hag.”

Georgi takes a step forward.

Yuri stands up.

Georgi takes another step forward.

Yuri turns around and plants his hands wide on the locker. The motion is too awkward to be sexy or natural. It’s overly practiced, and it reminds Georgi of just what he’s dealing with.

“Settling for the next best thing?” Georgi’s own words sting, but he knows them to be the absolute truth.

“Shut the fuck up Popovich.” Yuri calls over his shoulder. “Stop jerking your dick and fuck me.”

Georgi slams his own hand into the locker just above Yuri’s he ruts his cock into the cleft of Yuri’s ass, before he remembers in a split second, “do you have anything?”

“Any what?” Yuri spits back.

That alone should be enough to shatter the fever dream illusion that had been building between the two of them for months, but it doesn’t. “You need _something._ Lube, lotion, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Whatever,” Yuri scoffs. “Feels fine with just my fingers.”

Georgi wants to argue that he’s much larger than Yuri’s long slender fingers. He wants to argue that just because something is functional doesn’t mean that it’s optimal. Instead, he takes a split second to find a container of lotion in his bag. He coats his cock with it, and ignores Yuri’s constant stream of degradation.

“Come the fuck on I already fingered myself. You can’t do a fucking thing right.”

“Just one thing.” Georgi takes Yuri’s hands into his own and pushes them up against the locker. The sound of metal against skin startles him, and all he can do is hope that Yuri didn’t feel him jump. “You’re with me. Not him. Understand Yuri?”

“Fu-uck me asshole.” Yuri presses his ass against his cock.

“Understand?” Georgi repeats.

“Yeah fine.”

Georgi presses in. He’s of two minds as he goes along: be slow and be gentle. Don’t hurt the boy more than he could hurt himself on his own. The second that tells him to go hard and go fast, it’s what Yuri wants. It’s what he’d end up getting whether it was with Georgi or with anyone else.

Georgi’s body demands that the answer lie somewhere in the middle. He sets a moderate pace, desperate to not cum too quickly. He knows what Yuri really thinks of him, and he’d never let him live it down if the encounter ended too quickly. Except, Georgi can feel the tight coil in his belly, the curl in his toes already, that’s how tight he is.

Yuri’s grunts are deep and guttural, and it’s amazing to Georgi that this little slip of a boy can sound like that.  

“Who are you with Yuri?” Georgi whispers it into his ear nice and soft, like a sweet nothing that he’d lavish on another lover: Anya, Natalie, Christina.

“Shut the fuck up asshole.”

“Yuri,” he pulls nearly all the way out, but doesn’t push back in. Yuri tries to impale himself on his cock, but Georgi holds him firm. “Yuri tell me.”

“Back off.”

“Tell me,” and he slides back in nice and slow hoping that it provides just enough pressure and just enough drag on Yuri’s prostate.

“Ah fuck-Ah-fuck Georgi do that again.”

“Who?” Georgi repeats the action.

Georgi understands of course. There’s something so good about choosing to be hurt after being hurt unexpectedly. There’s something so powerful about washing away one’s sorrow in the presence of another, even if it’s just for a moment.

What Georgi does for Yuri, Yuri does for Georgi. Each snap of his hips takes a way a fraction of the pain left by Anya. He knows that this is one of many such encounters for himself, and it’s the first of many for Yuri.

“Georgi.” Georgi takes Yuri’s cock into his hand. He pumps hard, and he thrusts into him. Hard. Georgi can feel Yuri clench around him. He can feel the sticky wet heat cover his hand. He thrusts into Yuri long after the cries of pleasure fade to whimpers of over stimulation. With each thrust, his name is on Yuri’s tongue like a curse, acerbic and bitter, “Georgi.”


End file.
